Page 3 of Viking in Love

“Are you saying we can cover up this…accident?” Tyra looked imploringly at her husband’s good friend.

“Do not stand in the midst of rain and ask Allah for a hat. Allah helps those who help themselves.”

Her sisters looked toward Breanne.

Even though Tyra was the oldest, her sisters always expected Breanne to lead. “’Tis agreed…we need a plan. Rashid, pull off one of those bed drapes so we can wrap the body. Ingrith, take some linens out of the chest and mop up the blood. Drifa, get the pitcher and bowl of water and try to remove the stain on the floor.”

In the meantime, Breanne opened the door carefully to check on any guards who might be passing in the hall. There were none. It was late evening, long past dinner. Sounds of laughter could be heard coming from the great hall, where the men were no doubt downing cups of ale and tupping every maid they could get their slimy hands on, willing or not. They probably thought Lord Havenshire was up here in his bedchamber doing the same. For all they knew, Vana’s sisters, come to visit, had been led to separate bedchambers on another level and would greet their sister for the first time in the morn.

“Mayhap we could put the earl’s body in the chest,” Ingrith suggested.

“He’s too big,” Vana said, her upper lip curling with distaste, no doubt having suffered for his bigness way too many times.

Ingrith had a better idea. “We can scrunch him in.”

“Scrunch? A body cannot be folded like a blanket. Can it?” Drifa pursed her lips in puzzlement. “Oh! Mayhap it gets scrunchy when dead.”

Breanne rolled her eyes. “Assuming we could fit the body in the chest, where could we hide it that would never be found?”

“We could burn the chest,” Ingrith suggested.

Breanne shook her head. “The fire would attract too much attention. And it would smell…I think.”

“The river?” Drifa offered.

Again Breanne shook her head. “Bodies tend to rise to the top eventually, no matter how weighted down.”

“I have an idea,” Vana said brightly. You had to give the girl credit for being able to smile. “Bottom of the privy.”

They all chuckled.

“How appropriate! Havenshire always was a piece of…” Ingrith, ever the earthy one, guffawed at her own jest.

“No, you missay me, sisters,” Vana said. “There is a new garderobe just now being built on the back side of the castle. The hole has been dug and loose stones are being laid down.”

“Aaaah! We throw Havenshire’s body in the hole, then toss loose stones on top.” Breanne had to admit the idea had merit.

“No one will go down in that cesspit, even in the beginning…um, dry state,” Vana elaborated. “’Tis far too deep.”

“So, the privy, it is.” Breanne looked to the others for agreement. “What will we say when the earl’s men ask for him or his whereabouts?”

Rashid glanced toward Tyra, stroking his mustache thoughtfully. “Tyra, you are much the size of Oswald. Mayhap we could dress you in his clothing.”

“With the fur-lined cowled cape he favored,” Vana added. “And using the back stairway through the scullery.”

“Somehow you must be able to saddle a horse and ride away from the castle, with the guardsmen seeing you but not being able to identify you as any other than their lord,” Rashid said.

“Agreed,” Tyra said, “but someone needs to distract the stable hand on duty.”

“I can do that,” Drifa offered. Half Arab, half Viking, Drifa was a petite, beautiful, well-formed woman with raven hair and slanted eyes who attracted men easily.

“The sentries will not be suspicious at the earl’s leaving the castle so late. He has a mistress in Whitby. Ofttimes he goes to visit her and stays overnight. Or longer when he is especially lustsome.” Vana did not appear the least disgusted imparting that news, since his mistress had spared her some of his vile attentions.

“But the day after tomorrow, his riderless horse will make its way back to Havenshire, and the first clue will be planted that he is gone. Perchance killed by villains out to rob peaceful wayfarers.” Breanne thought for a moment. “It just might work, as long as we all stay here to support Vana and act suitably horrified and grief stricken. We must not panic when someone asks, ‘Where is the earl?’ Nothing to attract suspicion.”

“How will we get the chest to the cesspit?” Drifa wanted to know.

“The two guardsmen Father sent with us are down in the great hall exchanging glares with Havenshire’s men. They are up to the task, if they have not imbibed too much ale,” Ingrith pointed out. “If one more Havenshire clodpole refers to Norsemen as lacking in battle skills, we will have a war on our hands.”